Harper's Island The Way Home
by Midnight.Sylvia
Summary: Set during Abby and Jimmy's escape, this story follows both characters as they make their way home. They thought it was over but there are still more secrets that have yet to be revealed. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **Harper's Island belongs to CBS.

_Hey, this is my first attempt at fanfiction. So crossing my fingers and hoping everything goes well – though oddly enough not that much of a challenge to type like this._

**My name is Abby Mills. I had come home for my best friends wedding. It was supposed to be the new beginning for his fairytale romance. But something terrible happened, one by one people from the wedding party were picked off and killed. All these deaths were orchestrated by John Wakefield, with the assistance of his son; my best friend, Henry James Dunn, my brother. Their rampage lasted for days, until John Wakefield threatened my life and Henry responded in the only way he knew – he killed him. Henry wanted to keep me on his island like a caged butterfly forever. Jimmy and I though managed to escape; in the process I killed Henry, my brother, my best friend. The freedom I earned has stained my hands with blood. John Wakefield and Henry Dunn are dead, there is no one left to continue on. For once I felt it was safe but little did I know how wrong I was …**

I looked down at Jimmy while he was huddled in the safety on my lap. Gently moving the dark locks of his bruised and bloodied face I was once again thankful that he was alright, that he was still alive – I don't know what I would do if I lost him too. Loosing him so soon after finding him, and knowing that I'd be responsible for his death. There are two many deaths that lay at my feet already.

Lost in the sound of the waves that lapped gently around her legs and feet and staring lovingly and protectively at Jimmy, she almost forgot the situation she was in. Almost missing the painful grunt as Henry eased himself to his feet and the sound of his uneven stagger as he made his way towards her, bent over the prone figure.

With sudden alertness to the danger, she grabbed the hunting knife and turning quickly and stabbed blindly at the shadow looming over her. This was the man, who had out manned and out manoeuvred those stronger than her, and she did it. She managed what all those before her couldn't or wouldn't, she stabbed Henry.

Shock both marred their faces, and tears both fell down their face. They both fell together … fell on the land where once upon time they laughed and played, which was now slowly having blood spilled upon it. Her hand hovered upon his chest, feeling the movements of the heart. Leaning forward, Henry looked into her eyes gasping and she prepared herself for the last few angry words that he would say to her, that he would say to anyone. But it never happened, instead a hand brushed gently along the side of her face.

"I … love you, Abby", he expelled with his laggard breath. His body exhausted it's breath and went limp, supported only by one of her hands held to his chest.

Removing her hand, she watched in shock as he fell backward. Heard the sickening sound as bones impacted on the pebbled shore and water slowly lapped at the side of his face. Blood had already begun to mix with the water, and slowly in that small area, the water had turned red.

Gasping back tears, she turned and made her way back to Jimmy who was slowly making his way to his feet. With quick strides she managed to grab him around his waist before he tumbled on the slippery ground. There were too many deaths at her feet, and one more than she'd like staining her hands. Seeing Jimmy's face leaning towards her, she snapped to attention.

"Let's get going Abbs. We should get to the met point".

Slowly bringing her head to his shoulder and shielding her from the sight of Henry's figure, the pair made their way towards the meeting point and deeper into the island. A journey hindered by the mud, blood and water sticking to their clothing, that would occasionally catch on the undergrowth. From there on they would be taken away from Harper's Island - away from this place of death and destruction.


	2. Coming Home and the Decision

Disclaimer: Harper's Island still does not belong to me, though one day I will

own a copy of it on dvd. Though the characters Stanley Lee and Jessica Ryan

came out of my own attempt at being creative.

Also a huge thanks to freefallin13 who made this readable, and acquire a certain flow.

....

It had taken days to return to some type of equilibrium. With the threat of

death no longer hanging over their heads, they could once again feel and

think. Reality hit. The dawning anguish over the dozens of lost loved ones

sunk in.

The trip home was a blur. They remembered the colours of the oceans, the

trees and buildings; everything else seemed to be covered by a veil. Nothing

was clear. Their names were meaningless noises to distinguish one from the

other. Everything that was going on around them was sand falling through their

grasp. Their exhausted, numb minds couldn't process the police officers'

persistent questions. They wobbled off the helicopter onto the loading bay and

were placed in the care of those in a high position of authority. The

investigating officers turned at the sound of a faint voice, coming from a

dazed Abby.

"Good Luck."

Through the trauma of their ordeal, the two maintained an unspoken pact of

keeping the other in sight at all times. The officers eventually separated

them for a individual physical examinations, despite the pair's display of

force that both showed – the first real sign of life since leaving

Harper's Island.

---

Abby was released from the hospital sooner than Jimmy, who was kept under

observation for a few days due to malnutrition and poisoning. Abby, though,

was deemed fit enough to face interrogation but was forbidden from seeing

Jimmy. Sitting along in the empty interrogation room, she stared vacantly at

the outside world through the barred windows, feeling the eyes of officers on

the other side of the glass. They had been in before and introduced

themselves, though they were called urgently away. Still feeling slightly

numb, she realized that this is what she'd do to a character in her book if

they were suspected of murder. Her book. That seemed like a lifetime ago.

---

There were two officers on the other side of the glass, a mirror image of the

room that Abby inhabited. The large gray stone bricks made the room cold and

had a way of sucking the life out of anyone who occupied its space. The

officers and their peers had followed the Harper's case since it had been

brought to their attention. The case was popular, but the men were wary about

questioning Abby Mills. Neither seemed too keen to make the first move, like

she had some sort of infectious disease.

The eldest was Stanley Lee, an officer for over twenty years with a receding

hairline that betrayed his otherwise good-looking features. Lee was in his

early 50s and was forever the gentleman his parents raised him to be. He could

not quite believe or accept what the world was like despite what his career

proved to him daily. He had recently teamed up with a Jessica Ryan, a

considerably younger officer, after his previous partner died in a shoot-out.

Ryan had an athletic build and long, flowing black hair that was usually tied

up in a bun; she looked more suited to a fashion walkway than the

crime-riddled streets. She easily accepted the world's realities that he so

readily denied, a cynical trait he was sad to see in a young person. Despite

the short time working together, the pair had formed a stable camaraderie,

which would be necessary for a case like this.

Lee sat hunched over, arms draped on the desk near the glass window, going

over notes and watching Abby. Occasionally, he'd rub his hand in a vain

attempt to get some warmth into the cold digits. Ryan paced the room

restlessly, the thought of her first interrogation filling her with energy and

nerves.

"So what do you think happened?" Ryan asked.

"Honestly, I have no idea," Lee admitted. "The other survivors…well,

they didn't say anything that makes me think she had something to do with

this killing spree."

"You hesitated. You're unsure," Ryan observed while staring into the

interrogation room.

"Well, maybe you do have some sense about you," Lee chuckled admirably.

"It comes with experience, that doubt of what someone tells you. But my gut

tells me she was just at the wrong place at the wrong time."

He stood slowly, setting down his pen. "Come on, our witness ain't going

to question herself."

Giving her one last look, Lee grabbed his coat of the chair and followed Ryan

out of the room. Another job of making a person re-live the worst experience

of her life. If only the walls could talk.

---

The sound of the opening door shook Abby from her daydreams. She snapped into

focus.

"I'm sorry we took so long, Ms. Mills," the male officer said

earnestly. His demeanor was friendly.

Abby's mouth twitched in an attempted smiled. She leaned forward in her

chair and put her head in her hands. The officers watched her with close

scrutiny, taking seats across from her. Sensing this, Abby looked up and

stared at them vacantly.

"What do you want to know?" she asked in a hollow, dead sort of voice

that she didn't recognize as her own.

"Ms. Mills," Lee began, shifting a thick file in his hand. "Over 30

murders can be attributed to this case. We just need to know what

happened."

"I don't know how much help I can be. I didn't see most of the…the

killings," she stated diffidently, staring at her joined hands.

"Ms. Mills … Abby, we just want to know what happened," Ryan pressed.

"We just want to stop the person behind these murders. We know that you have

a history with John Wakefield and …"

Abby's head snapped up, eyes ablaze. "What? John Wakefield? How do you

know about John Wakefield!"

The two officers sighed, realizing Ryan's slip. They couldn't back track

now, Abby didn't look like she was going to let this line of questioning go.

The Harper's Island case has already been bungled and people – important

people – wanted answers.

"There were two other survivors – " Ryan checked the file "– a Shea

and Madison Allen. A helicopter picked them up a few days before we found

you."

"They're fine, some small cuts and bruises but just mainly in shock"

Lee assured, seeing the distress that filled Abby's face.

"Did there … was there … was anybody else found … alive?" Abby

asked.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Mills. With the information you gave the officers on the

helicopter - "

"What information?" Abby's eyes darted between her interrogators.

"Ms. Mills, it's perfectly normal to forget some things after being in

such a traumatic experience as you have – I'm sure the doctors told

you," Lee explained calmly.

Both officers stared at Abby, and all she could do is nod. She couldn't

recall much of her hospital stay – the overall impression of never-ending

white rooms and halls, the cold medical instruments and endless parade

of people around her room.

"You told us about a friend … Henry Dunn, how we could find him at a

certain bay," Ryan led.

"Henry," Abby whispered, disbelief coursing through her when she thought

of how he was partially responsible for what had happened.

"By the time we were finally able to go back, the tide had already taken

the body out. So far there's been more search for other … victims," Lee

said hesitantly as Abby winced. "But a body might not be recovered. A sad

fact is that there are lots of bodies lost at sea. And honestly, at this

point, the search teams are focused on the land."

The officers continued to talk, recounting things that Abby herself had

unknowingly already explained in the helicopter. But she was mentally a

million miles away. She could imagine him, Henry, as his body drifting away

from the island – the tide washing away the blood until he just looked like

he was peacefully floating. By the time she knew that he was behind the

killings, he was lost to her – though now there was nothing of him left. To

grieve or to hate … she had no idea. Her head pounded.

"So he killed them, right?" the all-important question breaking through

Abby's thoughts.

"Pardon?" Abby croaked.

"Wakefield. John Wakefield was the one who killed them," Ryan repeated.

"That was established by the other two survivors, though they thought he

might have gotten some help. Did you see anything that would give this

validation?"

Yes, she knew. She knew all too well of the identity of the accomplice. So

many people were dead at his hand, yet how was it that she couldn't bring

herself to say his name? To bring the fallen to justice? He was dead and so

was Wakefield. Why should it matter? All the times that she had been teased

for being the 'Good Girl,' she was going to do something that seriously

spat in the face of everything she had ever done.

"No, it was just Wakefield. Wakefield was the one who killed them all"

she replied, bringing her knees upon the seat.

"How was he stopped, Ms. Mills?" Ryan urged. "How did Wakefield end up

dead?"

"Jimmy … uhh … it was Jimmy," Abby lied. "Jimmy stopped Wakefield

at the church. He attacked us both. Jimmy was able to get a knife off of him

and stab him."

"Is there anything else you wish to tell us?" Ryan asked, eyeing her

closely.

Abby shook her head, unable to find words.

"Just wait here a few moments, Miss, and will get someone to take you

home" Lee said relief evident in his voice, knowing this killer had been

stopped. Only one killer!

"Could I be taken to the hospital? I want to see Jimmy," she requested,

barely audible while her head rested on her knees.

"Sure. That can be done. Just wait here," Ryan answered.

The officers filed out the door, leaving Abby in the quiet room.

"It was Wakefield. John Wakefield," she defiantly told the silence.

---

She continued to stare out the window and watch the clouds go by. Tears

pooled in her eyes and rolled down her checks onto her jeans. She asked

herself again and again why she lied to the police. Henry was dead. She

wouldn't be betraying him. The tears fell faster.

Somewhere outside a butterfly landed on daisy, gentry cleaning its face.

---

Staring unseeingly out the window, the city's landscape passed the police

cars' windows. The two officers assigned to this case were en route to

another precinct. They remained silent throughout the trip, occasionally

glancing back at one of the survivors of the Harper's Island massacre.

Upon reaching the hospital entrance, she slid out of the car and walked

slowly to the entrance. She had known what room Jimmy had been taking to, had

grasped onto the one piece of information she had overheard during her brief

stay here a few days ago. She made her way past security after convincing them

she wasn't with the press and quietly walked into his room. She found Jimmy

staring out the window.

"Hey, Jimmy," she allowed herself the smallest of smiles.

Jimmy, startled at the interruption, jumped slightly in the bed. He relaxed

when he turned and saw Abby's dark eyes bearing into his own. He was still

recovering, bandages placed over various wounds, his skin a pale shade to the

normal sun-kissed tone she was used to.

"Hey, Abby," his voice cracked after days of disuse.

She walked over to him and leaned against the hospital bed, kissing Jimmy

gently on the check. She nuzzled against his shoulder and started to play with

his hair.

"And here I was worried that'd I'd worry you with my appearance,"

Jimmy teased wryly.

"Still the most handsome guy around," she replied, moving back to a chair

at his bedside.

She was at a sudden loss of words. All this time she had wanted to see Jimmy,

and now that it was happening, she had nothing to say. For the countless time

that day, she stared at her hands as if they could somehow tell her what to

do.

"What's wrong, Abby? What is it?" he asked softly.

She continued to sit there in a stony silence.

"Abby," he said a bit firmer, and she looked up, eyes pleading.

"Jimmy, I've got something to tell you."


	3. Which time is now?

Disclaimer: Harper's Island still doesn't belong to me.

Had a difficult time writing this, had more jumps in time than actually ended up happening. It's an attempt to create some chaos, at least there was an attempt. Messing with the timeframe can be so interesting. Also tried to write the characters as well as I could, but … well a bit o.o.c. Next time, or sometime soon other people will be mentioned. More characters for me to write out of character. *Awaits the popcorn to be thrown*. I like extra vinegar and salt, thank you very much. 

The weather had really warmed up and the city was experience it's hottest day in years. Despite the air conditioner that blew cool air around the house, its inhabitants where still sweating. The Victorian manor, heavily furnished with antiques, combined with the heat provided a dreamy atmosphere. Two individuals, a grown woman and little girl where sitting in the solarium, with every now and then the little girl would fidget. Watching the elder like a hawk, the little girl ran off into the front of the house when the others were focused on a glass of iced tea.

"They're coming Mum. They should be here soon", Madison exclaimed with excitement running along with the tail of her dress blowing behind her.

Running over to the window box, she sat down and watched with avid attention at the cars going by the house, behind her followed her mother. Madison had spent the last few hours getting ready for her special visitors, slowly the girl was beginning to be able to get excited about things. Though where she displayed some excitement, Shea Allen trudged after her daughter, her clothes rumbled from a hard day at work.

"Madison, calm down. Do you remember what I told you about running around inside the house? If you keep on doing that, you're going to end up breaking something," she said in her sternest voice, mum position in check.

"But Mum –".

"You running around and yelling isn't going to get them here faster. I know you're looking forward to seeing Abby and Jimmy but they'll be here soon, nothing is going to happen to them" her hand leaving the comfortable position on her hip, and she entered into the realm of comforting Mum.

"But what if something does happen? We never saw what was happening to Granddad or Aunt Trish coming!" her voice sounded so young; sometimes she forgot how young Madison was. It scared her though, whenever any references were made to the killings, she get that same creepy, detached tone – how she sounded like when she was on Harper's Island.

Walking over to the window box, she pulled Madison onto her lap, the heat made it uncomfortable, the comfort of the knowledge that they were both safe quickly overwrite that small problem. Check to check, both mother and daughter looked out at the life that flew by their window.

"They got him, sweetie. That … bad man, he won't be able to hurt anyone else" Shea reassured turning her face inward to kiss Madison hair and smell the baby shampoo she used.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room, seeming to pour out from every crack in the house. People making their way passed the Allen's house seemed to take on sinister shadows.

"But Mum … there are other bad men out there" Madison whispered into the room.

Shea opened her mouth ready to reply but closed it abruptly. What was she going to say to convince her daughter of something that she no longer felt anyway inclined to believe? The steady footfalls of people walking up the steps stalled her from having to reply and for that interruption she was gladly thankful for. Though as her daughter extracted herself from her grasp and made her way toward the door, she suddenly turned around; Shea realised that maybe she hadn't been as saved as she thought.

Looking down at the floor she felt her heart ache. The loss of Trish and her father was still weighing heavily on her mind. She felt heavy and the room around her was so large, as if it would take her days to walk to one side of the room. Sighing, she turned to face out the window. Sweat gathering around her temples and sun shining down on her face, she listened the sounds.

---

"What's wrong, Abby? What is it?" he asked softly.

She continued to sit there in a stony silence.

"Abby," he said a bit firmer, and she looked up, eyes pleading.

"Jimmy, I've got something to tell you."

---

She could hear the muffled conversations of Abby and Jimmy as they made their way up to the front porch. She surprised both of them by throwing the door by the time they had reached the landings, she always did that and they always were surprised. It gave her a certain level of satisfaction knowing that she could sneak up on the two who had managed to defeat John Wakefield - oddly enough it made her feel safe. It would be that thought she kept in her mind on the nights when she was finding it difficult to get to sleep. A time when every corner hid John Wakefield holding a fierce knife, that was hungry for blood. She wanted desperately to run to the safety of her Mother's arms, but she had to be brave.

It has been almost four months since all four landed on safe shores. So far she was the only one make obvious progress. Abby and Jimmy appearance was still deathlike, darkness circled their eyes. The only difference now was that their bland coloured clothing was beginning to hang less on them. They were like the old, they moved slow, very often things had to be repeated to them and Madison was afraid that a strong wind would blow them out of her life.

Walking forward with confidant steps, checking her field vision, she approached the two figured and grabbed them by the wrist, pulling them into the house. The only safe place she has known since the massacre occurred.

Letting go, the all stopped in the foyer. Madison suddenly spun around, her dress twirling around her child legs. Stopping suddenly, that she almost tripped over, she stared up at Abby expectantly. They had yet to exchange words, and both Abby and Jimmy remained puzzled over her behaviour. Hands dropping to her side, her head tilted to the side and her expression conveying she wasn't going to give out any more clues as to what was going on in her head.

Abby walking forward, letting go of Jimmy's hand and kneeled down to her height. Chewing her lower lip in concentration, Madison could see the wheels begin to turn.

"… My favourite colours, sweetie?" Abby asked.

Smiling with satisfaction, Madison nodded. This was one of her favourite dresses that everyone she had ever loved had adored on her. Her father, her grandmother, grandfather and recently she had found out that the colours were among Abby and Jimmy's favourites.

---

Looking out the window Abby was fighting with what to say.

"When I was interview by the police, they asked me who was responsible -"

"Yes, and you told them about Wakefield and Dunn. That John and Henry were responsible."

"No. I didn't"

---

She grabbed them around the wrist and dragged them into the front room, so they could all talk together. Though by the time they got there, her mother was surprisingly absent. She had been acting that way for quite some now. But regardless, here were people that Madison loved and she was going to enjoy their company.

Her energy overwhelmed them. The constant boundless energy made the warmth of the day sink in even more, and for that they were grateful. At times it felt so challenging to react to things, to feel the world around them.

She showed Abby and Jimmy progress reports of how she was going with her counsellor and her education. Trying to silently convey that things can get better, that they can get better.

She went on to show them the things that enjoyable held her time. Her paintings, her stories, and the new little porcelain doll that she was making. To which they both made the relevant replies over. Though looking at all the progress she had made, forced them to look at how much they were standing still.

Placing her hand on Madison's shoulder, Abby was able to bring her rabble to a halt.

"Sweetie, it's great all the things you've been doing. But maybe I could go and speak with your Mum? Do you know where she is?"

"She'd probably be in the kitchen. If she's not there, try the launder," the little girl replied with a sigh, blowing her long fringe off of her face.

---

"What do you mean you didn't? They were both responsible for what happened and you let him off the hook? Great golden boy gets another prize."

"Jimmy"

"Why do you do that? What if they had an interview with me and I told them? They might think that you were somehow involved"

"But I wasn't Jimmy. How could you even say that have what they did to my family?"

"But they don't know you the way I do Abbs!"

---

Shea continued to stare out the kitchen windows, the yellow patterned curtains providing a distraction for her wandering mind. Her hands walked automatically at the dishes in the sink, the maid would do this job among others, though now simple household chores had become a welcoming chore since coming home. The regular immersion of boiling liquid on her hands had not done any good for them, the skin was cracking and the nails were in need of repair.

Abby entered the room quietly behind her, an opportunity to see Shea unguarded. She had changed a lot in the short span compared to the twenty plus years she had known of her. Her brunette hair was hung loosely framing her face, she was adorned in loose fitting clothes and a fine trail of sweat was working its way down her neck.

"How are you Shea?" Abby's asked.

Startled at the sound of Abby's voice Shea gave a small leap. Letting out a sigh, Shea place her out spread hand on her chest to calm her down. Her breathing began to slow down, though there began an increase of blinking and a rapid, nervous attempt to fix her hair.

"Fine. Abby, I'm fine" hands had already returned to their task, a trail of soapy water over her top and hair.

"I didn't see you when I came in. Madison has been showing us around and telling us how things have been going … not that I haven't enjoyed it, I just wanted to see how you are. What with things the way they are - "

"Look Abby, I don't want to talk about it" she interrupted sharply.

"It's okay Shea".

Unknowing to both females, Jimmy listened from the corridor. The events that had unfolded brought them together and secrets shouldn't be kept from each other. Turning around Jimmy made his way back to the lounge room to wait for Madison to return with her new doll.

"I just want you to know that I'm here for you" Abby continued.

Sudden deep sobs racked Shea's shoulder and she struggled not to make any noise. Turning quickly she grabbed hold of Abby, clinging to her with a deathlike grip.

"Everything is so hard, Abby. I just don't know what to do" she managed through an attack of hiccups.

"All we can do is cope. I'm here for you" Abby reassured while making reasurrasuring patterns on her back.

---

"Can you forgive me Jimmy?" Abby asked pleadingly.

"I don't know how you could do that. I don't know now and I'm not sure I ever will" he replied each word strained.

Abby up stared at him with tears pooling and threatening to fall, making to pick up her bag she was stopped by Jimmy's hand.

"I didn't say I wouldn't forgive you" tears too had begun to gather in his eyes. "I love you Abby. Even when we were separated you were always on my mind. I'm here for you. I'll always be with you. I just hope that one day you can explain this to me. I don't want to know now, but maybe someday."

Blinking back the gathering tears, she bit at her lip to calm the growing grin. She slowly climbed onto the bed, carefully to avoid aggravating any injuries; she curled up to his body and laid her head on his lap. She couldn't help but think about how lucky she was to still have Jimmy in her life.


	4. While you were held by a psychopath

Disclaimer: Harper's Island still doesn't belong to me.

"Have you come to a decision yet, Ms?"

"I never dreamed that I'd be placed in this position … it's a difficult choice. What if I pick the wrong one?"

"Mum, it's okay. We'll make the right one."

"You are familiar with their taste?"

"She is … was my sister."

"Than I'm sure you'll make the right one."

"Mmmm … I'll choose the white one. The white coffin with the gold handles."

---

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Shea and Madison had been waiting in the interrogation room for the last hour, an infuriating time told apart only by the clicking of the clock. This wait though was not concerned with police officers coming in to question them, for this time had come and gone, now they were waiting to leave.

The moment that there small boat had reached help, somehow the mainland had heard of the events that had unfolded. The main lure being the news that Thomas Wellington, her father, had been murdered had drawn the reporters. The additional news that his death had been part of a massacre had drawn in all sorts of conspiracy theories that it had actually been a cultist pact. Though once it was pointed out that this was done at a wedding, some minds were quickly changed. For them to know a massacre occurring during the wedding week was proving to be just too picturesque to ignore, after all everyone loves a wedding.

And overall, that was the reason they were now waiting. The media had blocked off any idea of leaving through the front entrance, so that just left the back one and waiting for a vehicle that would be able to take them home. Home to grieve, think, and hopefully finally be able to breathe.

---

"How are you finding things Shea?" the psychologist asked, neatly posed as if at any moment a photograph would be taken of her.

"Things aren't … going that well. Right now I'm just trying to keep things together for my little girl. How is she going?"

"Shea," the psychologist warned, with a fixed glance, "we are here to talk about you. I've heard how you feel about your father and sister, but I haven't heard any mention of your husband and stepmother."

Shea knew this question would pop up eventual, and it infuriated her. It made her swim in confusion of all the years she had been taught to keep her private life private, and it made her hurt. She had no idea how to approach the subject of those two people, the last time she had saw either alive she had intensely wished that she never she them again. She was not responsible for what happened, but still there was that thought in the back of her mind that was telling her otherwise.

"I don't know what to think about them. After what happened … after what I learned, I don't know where they … stand with me. I'm sad though that Madison had to loose more people she loved though."

The psychologist sighed; placing down her gilded pen she discreetly checked her nails. Sighing heavily, her annoyance was quite clear. This was the third appointment with Shea Allen and she was getting absolutely nowhere, she doubted she would even if they had years together. The first one had been partal okay in terms of breakthroughs in expressing what she was going through, but she had shut down and everything now was answered in relation to how it affected Madison.

"Miss Allen," the psychologist said pointedly, "what are you hoping to get out of these appointments. It's something that you seriously need to ask yourself. Things do need eventual be talked about. Otherwise, you're just wasting your time and my time."

Shea hunched over in the comfortable captain chair, head gathered in her hands. The psychologist was right; she needed to think about this. She realised though that she had already come up with the answer to this when it was unasked. She couldn't do this, she couldn't go through this right now especially not with a stranger.

She grabbed at the bag next her, stood up and wordlessly left the room. Her hands we're already working at getting the credit card out of her wallet. From the corridor she could hear the psychologist shout out from of her room.

"So, I guess I'll be seeing you next week" the disimbodied voice dripped with angry sarcasm.

---

Her eyes slightly blurred turning the dark hair into a veil of satin. Shea had been brushing Madison's hair for the last half hour and her arm was beginning to tire, though this action brought comfort to the two.

She had been receiving numerous calls from employees from the family business. Not in regards to expressions of condolences, but work matters. She hadn't been home for long and she was already being hounded from all sides – doctors, business, media and Madison's school. Despite her attending a private school, word had gotten around about what had happened. According to the Principal there, Madison's 'bizarre behaviour' was not helping her 'situation'. Shea was beginning to hate that word. At least she knew that she wouldn't have to worry about finances.

---

"I'm sorry about the recent events that have happened in your family" the accountant expressed.

Shea listened with no interest on the condolences that her father's employees would express. Everyone was occurring to the bloody murders as 'events' or other passive words of expression. Most of the staff had hated him, and now they were mainly digging around looking for stories to sell to the press.

"You rang to me to speak about?" she asked raising an eyebrow; intimidation was a perfect way to make them move faster.

"Yes … umm, yes. I'm wanting to talk to you about the financial situation of the business - "

"My father … hasn't been … gone for long, how can there be a financial situation" she interrupted, sensing the approaching bad news.

"Actual, the business has been in quite some trouble for a while. If it wasn't the money you're mother - "

"Step-mother", Shea automatically corrected.

"Put into the business, you'd be almost bordering on bankruptcy. But the money isn't going to hold up, certain investments need to be addressed" he continued smoothly, ignoring the interruption.

The accountant continued on, ignoring the shocked figure of Shea as she grew ever more paler as more details were given. In the back of his mind the account was somewhat happy about the condition that the family was currently in, after all the ill treatment they had handed out to the lessors - this reaction would definitely be office gossip.

---

_Shea continued to stare out the kitchen windows, the yellow patterned curtains providing a distraction for her wandering mind. Her hands walked automatically at the dishes in the sink, the maid _(that was fired, they could no longer afford such services) _would do this job among others, though now simple household chores had become a welcoming chore since coming home. The regular immersion of boiling liquid on her hands had not done any good for them, the skin was cracking and the nails were in need of repair._

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock ……………………………………………………


	5. Over And Under

Harper's Island doesn't belong to me, nor will it ever.

Had the idea for this chapter for a while, but I'm not that good with dream sequences. Generally tend to be more visually orientated when thinking of them. Darn that tendency. Hoping it turned out okay. Well aside from the possible clichés used.

Opening her eyes, Abby's eyes were assaulted by the brightness of the sunlight. Closing her eyes fiercely tight, she listened to the noises that surrounded her. She could tell that she was outside, as she heard the various noises of nature – the birds, numerous smaller animals scurrying around in the undergrowth and the sounds of waves lapping at rock. While lying on the ground she would occasionally feel the lightest of winds stir against her skin, on this otherwise still day. Though, there were other noises in the background, man made, and coming from behind her. There was laughter, and the sounds of a radio and television competing against each other. Abby could feel mixed texture as she lay pressed into the ground, the feeling of fresh crisp grass combined with warm sand, though both leaving patterns on her exposed skin. Try as she might, she was unable to recall the moments leading up to here.

So engrossed in her concentration of the waves and her lack of memory, she failed to her the footsteps. Being only alerted to the other person's presence, when she felt the impact of a pillow thrown at her. Jumping up in surprise, Abby just managed to catch the shadow of the person as they entered the house. She was sitting in the middle of the front yard at her home in Harper's Island. Something though was wrong though, something in the back of her mind was telling her to remember something. The smell of her mother's cooking persuades her to leave the heavy thinking for later.

Getting to her feet with a grunt, she made her way into the house. There being no need to go to open the front door, as it's always open. She pauses by the lounge room, where her father is watching sports while drinking a glass of beer. Sitting in his favourite couch, as usual, she notes affectionately. As if sensing her presence, years of police work in use; he turns to her and gives a slight nod. He talks to her, though she can't hear what he says. Odd though, considering she can hear the television. Giving a slight nod and smile back, she makes her way to the kitchen. Her mother is standing in front of the stove, her favourite dress on and all Abby can do is admire the way that she looks so peaceful with her hair blowing slight in the non-existent wind. With her eyes closed, her mother continues listening to the radio, humming along to the classic songs.

Out of the recess of her mind, Abby is filled with a sudden intense anger. Directed at her mother. Unable to recall the source of such an intense emotion, she guiltily feels quite sick to the stomach.

"Why did you have to keep those secrets?" Abby asks of her confusedly, having no idea where that question would come from. They've never kept secrets between each other.

Her mother gives no reply, just continues standing there humming her song. Which only continues to infuriate Abby more. With a sigh, she leaves the room, knowing that no questions will be answered here. No talking will happen here. Making her way back to the lounge room, she is surprised to see that her father is no longer there. The TV continues to run on mute though, not only passed half way through its game.

Abby is suddenly aware that there was someone standing near her. She could not see this person, but the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. The familiar feeling returned to her, the same feeling whenever they were together. Focusing directly in front of her, she sees a piece of artwork. She knows in the pit of her stomach that it's important somehow.

"I remember this mask, you made it … " Abby trailed of.

"I know. I had such a hard time with the facial expression. You begged and pleaded to be told what it was, but I couldn't let you. Not until it was perfect anyway" Henry supplied, as he entered Abby's field of vision.

"I know, I was so impatient about things" Abby chuckled at this, reflecting on her youth.

"Do you remember the day you got it?" Henry asked. Both knew it was a pointless question to ask. There are some days in a person's life that will never be forgot, this for them was one of them. Among the many that they shared.

"How could I forget? That memory is ingrained in me as much as the day you won that fishing prize. That freaking ugly fish, you insisted on carrying around in the esky hours after. Made running around and showing it and your prize rather difficult."

Both wore the same contented smile, the same smile whenever they shared their stories. A world of just their own. So busy was she concentrating on her conversation with Henry, she failed to see the approaching storm, not until it hit. The sky had darkened and the electricity was flicking on and off. In the darkness there was a sudden crash, and fear grew in the pit of her stomach.

"I just wanted you to have something to remember me by" Henry voiced sadly to the darkened room.

"Like I could ever forget you", she replies though unknowing of how she feels about that lasting impression.

The clouds dispersed suddenly as Abby looked down to discover that the mask they had been talking about, Henry's mask, lay broken on the floor. Abby bends over to retrieve the pieces of the broken mask, tears pooling in her eyes. She grabs the two large pieces, and brings them up for her to inspect, though to break eye contact with Henry. To her surprise though her hands aren't greeted with the chalky texture of broken clay, but rather warm liquid. Their eye contact is broken and she stares down at her arms, to find the snaked with the liquid outline of blood.

"I remember, this was already broken," she whispers out.

"Abby, don't please!" Henry pleads with her, gently voice surprising her with the new knowledge entering her awareness.

"I put it here, and one day, we were moving furniture to the other house … and it got knocked. You made this mask, as a gift. A gift made especially for me, and it broke! I was so upset I cried for a week … because you just left. All this is just wrong, it's not real. The mask is broken, just like you are … were. You're not anything anymore" she continues on, unable to stop.

This time, Abby does notice the change in the room. Everything stopped being bright and fresh, it became more real. It was no longer the ideal location. There was the awareness that someone was watching them, turning to the doorframe there was her mother being supported up by her father. Neither held their previous happy or carefree expression, her father's face was weary while her mother was openly weeping. Soul shuddering tears flowed down her face, her shoulder moving with each mournful sound. The first real sound that she heard from either of them.

"You're all dead", Abby mournfully remembers, nausea hitting her with the realisation.

"Why did she have to remember?" her mother asks, pulling at her husband's shirt.

The room seems to expand suddenly, her parents had only been two metres away but now they are out of sight, but the sobs of her mother continue to echo. Echo around this endless scene. Unable to see either parent anymore, Abby turns to Henry. Glaring up at him, trying to muster all the hatred she knows she should be feeling.

"I should hate you. For what you did, what you did to my family, our friends", her voice though never reaching the level of disgusts she wants.

"Things aren't that simple" he arrogantly replies.

"I should have known what was going on. I should have seen" Abby replies guiltily, lowering her head.

"Yes, you should have. But that's not what I meant" he offers in a conspirators tone.

"Then what did you mean?" she asks brokenly.

Henry smiles back at her, surprising eliciting no response from her. She remembered a time when Henry's smile would have been comforting. Now she doesn't feel anything. Though sometimes she begins to wonder if it will be like that with everything in her life.

Catching eye contact with him, Henry maintains it and nods in the direction of the front window. The feeling that something is not quite right returns, and suddenly Abby knows why. All this time she's been here, she's felt a dark presence lurking just beyond reach.

"Dreams are meaningful" Henry assures her.

Unwilling compelled, Abby turns to the front yard. Standing tall in darkness is a figure, standing out horrible against the sunny afternoon. Raising a knife threateningly, this person starts to walk slowly before accelerating into a run. Running over the flowerbeds … and through the wall, the person grabs Abby in a headlock. In a desperate attempt in free herself, she grabs hold of the hood and yanks it … to find a blank face, two black holes staring back at her. In shock, the person is easily able to overcome her, and begins to choke Abby. As she is slowly and painfully choked, Abby realises that Henry too is gone. Stopping before causing death, her attacker lets Abby fall pain to the floor. And all Abby knows is darkness.

Bolting up from her nightmare, a sweat clad Abby is pleased to find herself in her Seattle apartment. Looking down Abby is amazed to find that Jimmy is still sleep peacefully away. He would probably want to know what she dreamt about, and considering the way her legs were entangled in the sheets; he would be even more concerned to know what was happening in her mind.

Gently holding her neck, Abby runs her long fingers up and down, remembering the violent attack. Closing her eyes and taking some much-needed deep breaths, she wishes again for the millionth time that she could forget her dreams.

"Dreams are meaningful" whispering the words in the silent room. Wanting to know how meaningful that one had been.


	6. Raise Your Hand If You're Not Lying

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own Harper's Island, or anything associated with it. Will eventually buy the dvd, when I'm not distracted by other things.

Wishing everyone a Happy New Year.

It was around 9:00am on a Thursday afternoon, not that you would be able to tell by the inhabitants of the small kitchen room. Two silent people. While the outside world roared busily by the open window, the heavily wooded decorated kitchen remained quiet and still. In the middle of the room, featured a round wooden table with decorative edges. The rings of the tree were visible on the top, to which the female occupant was busily counting away. While the other, a male, stared on at the hands that gentle passed over the table.

Summing courage, Jimmy was able to fill in the silence. "I heard you toss and turning during the night. I tried waking you, but you just kept sleeping on," Jimmy quietly admitted to Abby, now watching her face from across the kitchen table.

Abby and Jimmy had been sharing an uncomfortable silence since their morning began. Abby was emotionally drained from her main feature dream, and felt tired. She was not made to feel any better with Jimmy hovering nervously around her, hesitant to speak about anything at all.

"It was nothing Jimmy" she tiredly replied.

"Oh, so that was a nothing dream then. Well, I guess there's nothing to worry about", he attacked angrily. "Look Abby, I'm just worried about you. I want to help you. But you won't talk to me, you won't talk to anyone else" finishing soothingly.

"No one can understand what we went through Jimmy. I won't be … some gossip material, something to make someone feel better about their life, by seeing …"

"How bad your's is", Jimmy sadly finished off for her. "Then talk to me, I know you Abbs."

"I could always talk to Shea -"

"No", Jimmy interrupted forcibly, "I don't think that wouldn't be a good idea".

"Why wouldn't it be?" she asked suspiciously.

"I know they've been through what we've been through. But eventually you'd have to explain the whole Henry thing. Don't you think Madison and Shea have both been through enough? How would they feel knowing that the whole marriage plan was just an elaborate ruse to get you there? That their sister and aunt was just a pawn in someone's game?"

Abby and Jimmy's gazes locked, what a tangled web they had found themselves in. The comfort they had found with one another eased their pain somewhat. They were however getting use to the notion of having one another in their lives again, after such a long absence. They had both decided to take their relationship slow; they would have their whole lives ahead of them. Although their world was no longer familiar, they had a few things that remained. They were in a world of their own, one that most could only peer in on.

"You're right. I couldn't do that, tell them what happened … I don't think I could live with the guilt of spoiling their last good thought about what happened" Abby struggled to admit.

With a sigh, Abby heaved herself up from the chair and began to walk away. Looking over to the hallway, the direction she was headed, Jimmy was surprised to find her bag and jacket on the table.

"Are you going out today?" Jimmy asked in concern.

"Yup" she replied without pausing her motion.

"Where to?" he asked slowly pronouncing each word as long as possible.

"To see Shea. She asked if I could help with some things … go through the apartment that Trish and Henry shared. I won't mess up their ending" she choked out emotionally.

With those parting words, she rushed to the table and grabbed her belongings. Running out of the apartment, her shoes echoed in the small confines, only to be joined later with the echo of the banging front door.

The two women had been in the luxurious apartment for an hour now, neither had been willing to make a conversation. The loss of the people who they lost on Harper's Island weighed heavily on both their minds – although for different reasons.

They had meet outside the apartment, the warm day outside encouraging their small talk along. This though was stopped when the entered the building, the cool atmosphere set them on alert and when they entered the apartment they were both paused by what they saw.

All around the apartment there were little post-it notes placed around. They had inspected a few to see what was written, and the word chilled them. They were notes that Trish and Henry had written to one another. Things along the lines of things that they had to remember. Trish scolding Henry for trying to locate and see her wedding dress. Henry teasingly telling Trish that she wouldn't be finding his special wedding gift here. Or here. Or here either. Little endearing notes. Though what affected Shea were the notes debating about what would be brought to their new life, and what would be left behind. A life that neither of them would see.

Although they were both sharing in the silence between them, didn't mean that they weren't aware of one another. Shea was alarmed at the appearance of Abby, not for superficial reasons she would have once been, but for the feeling that Abby carried the weight of the world on her shoulder. Shea remembered all the ways that people reacted to what happened to her. Her was one of the people who would just listen for the shake of gossip, but would understand.

Glancing down at the photos in her hand, one caught her eye. It was a shot of Trish and Henry with Abby and Jimmy. Then suddenly she knew what she had to do. Abby would be able to help her with the pain, and maybe if she was lucky she could help Abby the same way. Goodness knows from the sight of her, she needs it. Holding on to the image, she walked the short distance to Abby and held out the photo for her to inspect. Once the image was held in Abby's hands, Shea kneeled down next to her.

"Tell me about her", Shea asked tearfully.

Refusing to brush the tears from her eyes, she turned to a confused Abby.

"I don't understand what you mean Shea" Abby admitted.

"She was my little sister. I knew her mainly when all the family together. I want to know who she was when she didn't have to worry about looking over her shoulder to avoid disapproval. What did you do? Was she ever different with guys? Did I know the real her?"

Each question she asked made her cry more and suddenly everything was just a blur in her eyes. Shea voice was straining towards the end and right now everything hurt. She almost didn't feel the hand enclose around her.

"She showed you all the parts that would have made you proud of her. She loved you", Abby whispered reassuringly.

"We should never have kept secrets. I don't know what's happening, everything is falling apart. And to top it off things with business aren't going well. I don't want to have to leave out home; we have so many memories there. So many I thought were wonderful", she confessed while finally wiping her flowing tears.

"You can't tell everybody everything. Sometimes secrets are needed. I can't you everything. There are some things that I have to keep a secret. For myself," Abby revealed staring unblinkingly ahead.

Shea seemed to think about what was said. Her hands spun nervously around one another in her lap before pressing tightly together. She smiled as she remembered her life, the people who were in her life and the people who still were.

"I understand sometimes secrets are needed," she concluded with a nod.

Abby was relieved with her understanding; the option of another person whom she could talk to lifted the weight off her shoulders immediately. She found it humorous that they should talk about secrets in a place that Henry was lived. The man of so many lies, it was hard to tell where the real him and the lies had met.

It was recess time for the school that Madison attended. All the young students had sat down and had eaten their lunch in hushed conversation with the teacher looking quietly on. Although most of the students sat together, Madison herself was separated from the majority by a few seats. Acts made by her and the students in the class whom had heard what had happened to her, and were slightly scared. Well, more so than before. Madison Allen had always been an odd girl, now there was death surrounding her.

Pleased with the students behaviour and their quick eating the teacher, Mr Adams, dismissed the class so they could go outside and play. He was however concerned with the behaviour of Madison Allen. He had been told to keep a watchful eye of her since her return, and the worrying concerning this student had only increased as every day passed. Mr Adams was aware of the schools stance towards varying subjects and feared her behaviour could have her relocated to a school that would 'suit her needs better." Although most of the teachers had been put off by her behaviour, Mr Adams was one of the rare few that found it refreshing. This was one of the students whom he was sure, would never be bullied into changing who she was. The ordeal that she survived only made him more certain that this girl could manage anything, although he was never made privy to such information.

All the students, with the exception of Madison, ran out of the room. Madison though walked slowly out of the room, a skipping rope being pulled out of one of her deep pockets.

Turning away from the last leaving student leaving the room, the teacher turned to looked out over the ground below. The students having just ran outside, and making their way to various locations around the premises. While Madison stood not that far from the door and began skipping, piggy-tails, flapping at each jump taken. Smiling at the now active girl, the teacher returned to his desk to begin fixing grades.

Five minutes had past in the cool room decorated by children's paintings before he heard the noise. From outside the room he could hear a young child shrieking. Rushing over to the window, knocking the chair to the floor, he saw Madison on the concrete girl with another child about her age standing above her. Pointing at the crouching figure the young girl continued to make shrieking sounds. Concerned for both of their safety and the fear that Madison was once again being bullied, Mr Adams ran to the girls.

Once reaching the buildings exit, he slowed his approach and calmed himself down.

Though still continued a rushed approach compared to his usual casual stroll. Approaching the shrieking girl, he managed to calm her down with soothing words and got her to leave the area and to get a drink from the water fountain. Turning around to the kneeling Madison, he found her staring intently at an injured leg. Slightly sickened at the sight of the blood flowing down from her injured knee, there was a pause in reacting – to help her with the injury.

"It doesn't hurt" came the voice beneath the veil of hair, her face hidden from sight.

Crouching over to her level, he produced a handkerchief from his pocket and began to wind it around her slender knee to stop the bleeding.

"What happened Madison? Did someone push you over?" he asked gently.

"No, I just fell over. Tripped on a stone," she replied evenly.

Being gentle to tighten the makeshift bandage in a knot. He was surprised however, that she continued to stare off at the wound, making no jumping movement when pressure was applied.

"Madison, are you okay? Are you able to walk? I'm going to have to carry you to the nurse's station. What's wrong?" he asked concerned that she may have injured her head.

"There's so much blood," Madison answered, lifting up her blood stained hands.

"My friend was in an accident and he's hurt," the man had come rushing in carrying another man over his shoulder. "Please help him," he said, the added weight straining on him.

"Yes, sir, I can see that. I'm going to need more information that. What happened?" a young nurse timidly asked.

"My friend was in a fishing accident. We had the wound fixed up at a local hospital but it looks like it's gotten slightly infected since then", the young man anxiously informed the nurse, pawing at the discoloured shirt.

He had come in around the time the night shift had changed. The young nurse herself hadn't had any time to adjust to beginning her rounds; however there was an elderly nurse who was working double shifts was ready with every situation at hand. Accessing the young blonde holding his friend, she pointed over to a wheelie.

"Place him over there, we'll bring him into a section and have him looked over. Though while that's being done could please fill out these forms."

Once sure that the patient was secured to the bed, she slammed the forms and folder to the man's chest and walked out of sight.

After ten minutes had passed she returned to the waiting, surprised to find the friend of the injured man waiting anxiously. Seeing the nurse re-enter the area, he jumped up from the seat and rushed over to her.

"How is he? Is he going to be okay -"?

"He's going to be fine. Let me just have a look at this" she interrupted simply by raising a hand in a cutting motion.

Picking up the form he had spent the last five minutes, she read what was written quite closely. In the back of her mind she appreciated the neat handwriting. Occasionally making thinking noises over parts she found interesting, clearly aware that such a sound was unnerving the man in front of her. Sometime she could clearly tell by the scuffling of his feet and the hunched over shadow figure she could see of him.

"That's okay, we get lots of fisherman in all the time with similar stories. Though most of the time, it's because they did the stitching themselves", the nurse looks over the top of the glasses at him.

"Nope, this was done by a professional. Just maybe not all the profession advice was, you know, followed" he provides while giving a cheeky grin, relief clearly written over his face.

The nurse grinned back; she could easily believe what this young man in front of her had to say. And after going over the form that he had filled out on behalf of his friend, she was glad to see that he had done so honestly. Gesturing to the man in front of her, she led him to the area where his friend was.

"So, I know what you're friend's name is young man. What is your's?"

"Christopher Sullivan is on my birth certificate, but people call me Sully. Or my full name, but never Mr. Sullivan. That's my dad," he explained with a cheeky grin.

Thinking about the injured man lying in the bed, the nurse was thankfully that friendship like this one still existed. She had come across so many people who had left their friends in similar situations to fend for themselves, sometimes even worse. Approaching the still figure, she lifted at bandage to reveal the infected area. This young man would turn out fine. Thank goodness, it struck her more when serious injuries acquired to the young ones.

"Well then Sully, it sounds like Henry is very lucky to have you as his friend."


	7. The Second Plan

Disclaimer: Don't own Harper's Island or any other tv show.

Most of the dialog that takes place between Henry and Sully was taken from the show. So if it sounds familiar, it didn't come from by own imagination. Thought I'd go into how Sully is still alive … probably not the most creative idea. At least aliens aren't involved. That's gotta mean something, right?

* * *

Sully watched the rising chest of Henry as he continued to lay sleeping in the hospital bed. Was sat there his mind went over what the nurse had said to him earlier on. Yes, Henry was lucky to have him as a friend. Though he was lucky that Henry thought he was a good friend worth keeping around. Sinking further into the chair, he tapped his fingers impatiently. When Henry wakes up and is released, they'll both go to a bar and see what they should do from then on.

xxx

_Flashs back to the Harper's Island Wedding Party Week._

"Well, now you know" Henry stated, looking at the stilled figure of Sully.

"Yup … I know you enjoy fishing" Sully supplied, hoping that would work.

Sully eyes darted about the room, checking for an exit. His search though stopped as they returned back to Henry's form. A sick sensation filled his stomach as he watched Henry shake his head slowly from side to side. That obviously bad lie was never going to be believed, why wasn't he lying as well as he normally did. Must be the large machete Henry held, the very large and bloodied machete.

"I think there's too much blood on this" Henry stopped looking pointedly at the weapon "to be done by fishing, he continued walking forward.

The look of amusement that graced his face clearly indicated that he was enjoying this moment. The weapon dropped from his should, and with each step he took it ran across the concrete creating sparks.

"What Sully, you aren't going to scream?" Henry asked, wrapping an arm around the blonde man.

Dropping the machete to the floor he took advantaged of the shocked form and pushed Sully into the wall. Holding him in place with both hands and a carefully located knee, he glared up into Sully's eyes.

"Mmmm, now this is a difficult situation. I have a proposition for you. Better listen carefully Sully, I don't want to explain myself more than once. What I tell you now can ensure you living to an … older age than you are now. Or you can die, a horrible and very painful death. Do you understand?"

Sully still remained quiet, which only further amused Henry. He had never seen the blonde this quiet before. Placing a finger across his Sully's lips, he felt the warm breath flow across his finger.

"Don't talk!" he ordered, "Just nod your head once for no and twice for yes. Remember that?"

Sully slowly nodded his head with determination.

xxx

White-hot anger flashed before his eyes. His plans were changed, his plans were ruined. All because Sully decided to save Shea and the little brat, Madison, from their fate. His anger was mounting with each step that Sully took of the way to 'finding Trish'. At first he was worried that his father would know that he was acting, but the rage that was coursing through his veins left nothing to be desired.

In Henry's mind there was only his way or the wrong way. His was cool, calculating and patient. And Sully wasn't any of those; he was impatient and ruled by passion. Henry once again wondered why he just didn't kill Sully when he had found out what was going on.

Breathing deeply in and out, he was able to control the feeling. The rage flowed down to something manageable. Closing his eyes, he could see the way that things would go. How the people would act, and how much he would be forced to reveal. A readjusted plan was already beginning to form in his mind, everything would work out.

He had a plan, and he would win this.

xxx

In Sully's mind everything was going according to plan. The small idle talk that was provoking him slightly put him on edge but he had been told about the plan. About how things would be carried out, and he knew he would have nothing to worry about. Listening to his friend rant about the 'unknown killer' almost brought a smirk to his face.

"Well life's hard, grow a pair" he supplied arrogantly, resisting the urge to look for Henry's father.

Walking on Sully continued to go through the plan in his mind, everything would work out well. Deep in thought in hands went to the protective padding around his torso, the bags of blood that were attached would make this as realistic as possible.

xxx

"I'm coming clean. Besides, you're my friend, you deserve to know before I … It's not like I killed them all, my dad did a lot" Henry continued walking forward, while Sully stepped backwards gripping the gun.

"You're Dad is dead, I went to his funeral" Sully replies thick with emotion, doubt beginning to fill his mind

"Not him, not that guy, that liar. My real Dad, John Wakefield. He's the only person who's told me the truth," Henry stated, clearly seeing the effects his behaviour was having on Sully.

"You've been my best friend since junior high" Sully scoffed, hoping this face would save him by bringing Henry back to being himself. This was all part of the plan, right?

He watched with alertness as Henry casually looked down to his pocket, and pulled out a pocketknife. The cold metal standing out amongst the dullness of the surrounding area made by the tall trees.

"Oh come on. Henry don't" Sully hears his voice plead.

"Sully!" Henry calmly states in reply.

"Don't make me shoot you" Sully threatens Henry, cocking the gun, though his eyes betray him.

"I decapitated Reverend Fain. I harpooned Richard Allen" Henry lists calmly; with each death the small knife is lifted as to make a point.

"Stop it" Sully steps back, realising that this was the plan … that he was going to be killed now.

"I stabbed Katherine in the Candlewick when everyone was running around looking for Madison. Pretty exciting stuff" happily supplied.

As Henry continued on his list, as if reciting his favourite hobbies, Sully felt the fear rushing to an unbelievable height. When he first heard about the plan, he was too absorbed in his own rage to see clearly. Now he saw where his spontaneous behaviour brought, people told him it would lead him into trouble, he never thought it would be this. Stepping back he felt the guilt as he realised what all the other victims before him felt. He had been a pawn, a plaything for Henry.

xxx

"I have a plan, a vision for how this weekend is going to turn out. Believe him, it's not going to be a happy wedding weekend, Henry started.

Pushing away from Sully, who was relieved that there was no longer the pressure of Henry's hands around his neck. They hadn't been there long, but long enough he knew that he would have a red mark. Wearily he watched the figure of Henry pace in front of him, though he wasn't able to hold his eyes there for long and soon began to watch his shadow on the concrete. Hearing Henry sigh, Sully knew that his friend was entering lecture mood. A tone he was use to after studying for certain exams, it didn't happened regularly but he was great at remembering his friend's moods and poses.

"My plan will have its share of death scenes. But if you agree with me, everything can work out well. You can go home after the whole ordeal and be a hero. You can't tell me that's not something that doesn't appeal to you"

"Killing! Are you out of your mind?" Sully asks incredulous.

His alarm increased when he saw Henry's face come in between his gaze and the concrete. An amused smile was once again on his face, the dimples standing out clearly.

"That's between me and my mind" Henry answered humorously.

"Come on, Sully, aren't you tired of the way things are. Cal is winning the girl, you're the same arrogant guy I've know since junior high looking after his mother 24hrs. Surprised you came though, how did you manage to get out of your cage after your last escape?" Henry face loomed even closer to Sully.

Gulping loudly, Sully's eyes widened. Pulling back, the look on Henry face could only be said to be competed with the Cheshire cat. Seeing the look on Sully's face Henry knew he had him right was he wanted. With a straightened back he continued to go on with the plan and what role he would know be able to plan.

xxx

"Do you want me to kill you?" he threatened again, a small amount of strength coming back into his voice.

He would either be able to remind Henry that he was needed or he would die bravely. As f sensing his thoughts Henry stopped his movements, and laughed, dimples appearing giving him a boyish look that was very wrong for this situation, and the look that was in his eyes. Absent-mindedly, Sully noted that Henry teeth were perfectly white. Sully was brought back to reality when Henry raised the knife, the looking that he was giving you could only mean that his rant was going to continue on, painfully. He always did like to challenge people, push their buttons … everyone had thought it an amusing trait back then. Though of course, a lot of those everyone was now dead.

"Here's something funny. Remember that money we found? It was Uncle Marty's. He wanted to invest in Malcolm's home brewery. Be the big hero, save the day! I wanted Malcolm to find the cash … see what happen then", thankfully Henry stopped the rant, looking thoughtfully off into the distant.

Sully was left with a numb feeling spreading along his body and time seemed to come to a halt. Was that all he was to? An experiment to see what would happen?

xxx

Standing in the cooling room, Sully felt somewhat uncomfortable standing there without his t-shirt on, arms outstretched. It felt that feeling uncomfortable is an odd behaviour for him, he was so used to standing around like that, a beer in his hand while females swooning over the sight of his muscular body. His was brought back to reality and away from his thoughts when he felt cooler hands work a stiff piece of material around him. The arms came wrapping him from behind and he waited until Henry tied the cord at his front tightly. With a grunt near his ear, he felt Henry move around him survey the work.

"Dude, why do I have to wear this?" he asked for the millionth time, "And I look stupid and I'm going have trouble moving" he added trying to lift his arms above his head.

"Well it either this or I stab you" Henry replied, twirling a small knife in his hand

"Okay, I'll take being comfortable then. What's making that swishing sound?"

"The blood bag" Henry simple supplied.

"Blood bags. You have blood bags because why? Suddenly turned into a vampire".

"You never know when it could be needed," Henry vaguely answered. "Anyway, we're going to search for Trish later on, Wakefield will overhear us and bam you 'die'. Stay out of the way from then on and things will go on their way … what?" Henry snapped seeing Sully's questioning look on.

"Isn't someone going hear the bag slushing about? And how do you know Wakefield will be there? Why hasn't he killed you?" he asked.

"Or how about I don't answer any of those questions!" Henry supplied, walking to the other side of the room he began to go over the plan again.

Sully aware that he wasn't going to get any answers began to put on the clothing laid out on the bed, before sitting down and listening to Henry carefully as possible.

xxx

Sully could feel the tears stinging his eyes, and threatening to fall. His relief though was short-lived.

"He made good beer, didn't he!" Henry finished off, clearly happy with his words.

"You son of a bitch" Sully growled out, pressing the hammer of the gun.

No shot sounded out, and Sully clicked the gun again. With each click the helplessness of the situation creped in even more. Pressing his face into the handle of gun, he lowered his eyes in sadness and defeat.

Henry was again reached down to the pocket in his jeans, this side though the ones located on the other side. Raising his eyes up, Sully was greeted with the sight of two bullets. The casings on both were the colour of blood. The amusement on his face was clear. Henry was the cat and he was the rat, the food being played with.

"Sorry" his voiced apathetically.

"Hey Dad. John Wakefield is right behind you" Henry pointed with his knife.

"How stupid do you think I am!" Sully voice, eyes glazing over.

"Pretty stupid"

Sully turned at the sound of the voice, and there stood John Wakefield. Casually hold a large shotgun over his shoulder.

Suddenly Sully felt a sharp movement on his back, and Henry's arm enclose around his chest. Grabbing Sully in a headlock, Henry revelled in his raged. The fear the poured off from the victim drove him forward. At this stage he could barely recall his name. And at this point all Sully could remember is all the actions that led to this moment.

Sully tried desperately to turn but was locked into position. Henry smirked at this, this vain effort of survival. The veins straining around Sully's face as his breath was slowly being blocked. His eyes watering, he could see the sign of when Sully would lose consciousness. He slightly released his hold on Sully though; he wanted to have the last word.

"You shouldn't have dogged Trish**" **Henry hissed, his breath running across Sully's skin.

Grabbing a hunk of Sully's clothing, he slammed the knife further up the back into the padding wrapped around his torso. The pained expression that flashed across Sully's face was not an act though, and Henry realised with detached amusement that he had managed to injury the figure in his grasp. He hadn't been as carefully as he planned to be. Falling over to his knees, Henry could see wetness seeping through the dark material in the area where he predicted it would be and another where the real injury occurred. Arms widely fling he fell forward to the ground, face turning to the side as it landed among the leaves. The shock that he received made the 'death' look real enough.

Henry stepped back, panting, and a flash of worry crossing his features. He'd hate to have hurt Sully too much, he didn't like when his plans were forced to be changed. Sighing, he turned to see his Dad watching the supposed dead body. In the back of his mind, he was hoping that Sully wouldn't do anything stupid like make an obvious movement. Henry was sure, pretty sure, that he applied just enough pressure. Not too little, not too much.

"Time to ring the bell" John Wakefield announced.

Looking back to the body, Henry could see the wheels working in his mind. Moving the body and displaying it in some grotesque manner was clearly what he was seeing. With long strides, Henry walked over and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Leave the body. It'll be more effective if they come across it by accident … anyway, don't we have plans for Trish's body" Henry supplied when he saw John Wakefield suspicious look.

His reminder of the plan only made John Wakefield happy. He knew he could get those soft feelings out of this boy, now the only thing that had to worry about now was Abby. With the final confrontation gleefully flashing across his face, he allowed the boy to lead him off to the church.

xxx

Waking up hours later, Sully saw that the surrounding area was dark. Some time had passed since he had 'died'. Sighing, up attempted to stand only then becoming aware of the pain around his shoulder blade. Grimacing through the pain, he was able to eventually get to his feet. Gingerly he began to make his way towards the cabin that Henry had told him about. He had already made a plan of what would happen when he got there. He would take a long hot both, that would relax his sore injured muscles and wait for Henry to share the rest of the plans. All he was told about from here on included the fact that they would have special guests appearing … he couldn't wait.


End file.
